Page 150

“Harmless fun? Look at the bridge,” she said furiously.

Kazmyn touched her shoulder. “Sister, you didn’t really think they were going to leave the bridge intact, did you?”

“They were always going to cut the ropes,” Rodriguez acknowledged. “Of course, they could now come back with bows and shoot us all.” He glanced around. “How many bows do we have?”

“Three,” Kazmyn admitted. “Mine, Visha’s, and Magda’s.”

Zaira swore. “You idiots. They outnumber us.”

“Zaira, this isn’t a numbers game. We have a dragon, remember?” I reminded her.

She didn’t look impressed. “You’re going to transform on this narrow ledge, are you?”

“Need I remind you all we carry precious cargo,” Hawl’s voice boomed. Neville was perched on their shoulder. At some point over the last day, the fluffin had decided the Bearkin was not only a wonderful protector but a convenient ride. Now the fluffin gave a little yap as if to say he agreed.

“We don’t want you to get shot, Nev,” I said, guiltily. “Sorry about that.”

“What was it that Santos was shouting?” Sankara asked from the back of the line.

“Something about heels,” Rodriguez clarified.

Sankara frowned. “Odd. Did he mean shoes?”

“Perhaps the vampire will throw old shoes at us,” Hawl boomed. “If so, they will not stop me.” They patted the fluffin’s head.

“Look, let’s just get across the bridge before they come back,” Pendragon suggested.

We moved toward the crossing. Kazmyn stepped forward, eyeing the bridge. “It could be worse,” he decided. We followed his gaze.

Dwarves were nothing if not confident, I thought. And they thought highbloods were bad.

The bridge hung over the gorge from ropes tied around four thick posts driven into the rock, two on our side and two on the other. The ropes were thick, but Santos had cut one so now the bridge swayed precariously on that side. Moreover, the whole span of planks were, well, uneven. Warped by time—but the mist probably hadn’t done the boards any favors either.

“It looks decrepit,” Hawl announced.

“Nonsense,” Kazmyn said brightly. “Dwarven work is built to survive. This bridge will still be hanging here in another hundred years.”

“Move along,” Zaira declared from behind me. “We don’t have all day.”

“It’s not as if we really have a better option,” Pendragon muttered.

Kazmyn was ushering us forward as if the bridge were the front door to his house. “After you, my fanged queen.” That was to Visha.

She shot him a look of disgust and then raced across the bridge before I could blink, jumping over the swaying planks at the end and landing on the other side with her bow still in hand. “It’s not that bad,” she called.

Pendragon and I went next. Soon everyone had come across—except Kazmyn.

He waited until we were all safe on the other side, then started walking slowly across. When he got to the middle he paused.

“Just cross, you idiot!” Zaira shouted.

“It’s fine!” he called back. “Perfectly safe.” He bounced on his toes. “See? Hundred years!” He did a little jump, and the bridge snapped. Kazmyn’s eyes were wide as he dropped. Zaira screamed.

He hit the water. I stared down after him. Shapes moved beneath the turbulent surface, long, narrow shadows.

“Now that I think about it, I believe Silvio said eels, not heels,” Rodriguez announced authoritatively.

“Oh no,” Zaira whispered. “They’re stoneeels. They’re blind. They hunt by vibration.”